


Confidence

by chaserzachsmith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Family, Gen, the battle of hogwarts so viewer discretion, while there isn't much really graphic violence or character death its like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaserzachsmith/pseuds/chaserzachsmith
Summary: Three times Dumbledore's Army surprised Arthur.





	Confidence

There is something really terrifying about Neville Longbottom being so ready to die.

Now, Arthur doesn't know Neville well. Doesn't know much about the boy except what Ron and Hermione have mentioned, and what he already knows about Augusta. But Neville Longbottom was never the sort who Arthur expected to be standing with, waiting for You-Know-Who and anticipating a long, terrible fight.

Kids are full of surprises.

Some of the kids are fidgeting nervously- a sweet-faced Hufflepuff keeps glancing at Neville, her lips pursed worriedly. A Gryffindor- maybe in Ginny's year- is tying her hair back. Next to her, a scrawny Ravenclaw is turning his wand over and over in his hands.

But Neville is staring straight ahead, not even seeming to breathe. Arthur can't quite pinpoint what about it is so unnerving, but he's horrified by that competence.

Never mind that just being around these students is horrifying. He'd demanded, months ago, that Ginny tell him what was happening at Hogwarts, it the rumours were true.

Either she hadn't been honest, or things had gotten worse since Easter. Seeing the students had been shocking, to Arthur. The scrawny Ravenclaw who looks like he's been in a brawl, the younger students- third and fourth year and even younger- with bruises and angry eyes, the Gryffindors Arthur recognises as Ron's year who look like they've been dragged through hell. Thank goodness they'd gone on the run as soon as they had.

He checks his watch, watches the second hand ticking. It'll be midnight soon. Neville and the Hufflepuff have a hasty, whispered conversation. Arthur wonders where Molly is. Where his boys are.

He knows better than to hope that his family will remain intact. He knows it's sheer dumb luck that they've survived this long at all.

At least he had a last hour or two, a last hour where his family was together again. That's all he's got right now, and he's thankful for it. For Percy coming back, for seeing Ron again, for seeing Harry and Hermione- for the twins and Lee Jordan making it out to Aunt Muriel's after Potterwatch was shut down, and for Bill and Fleur and for Charlie on the way and Ginny safely out of danger.

He checks his watch again. It's getting closer and closer to midnight and he is suddenly sweaty, even in the chill of night. He takes off his cloak and hangs it on an empty torch bracket.

Takes a deep breath and looks sideways at Neville, at his collected energy, at his determination. It's as comforting as it is terrible.

* * *

What might be the most surprising thing is that Neville Longbottom isn't the only competent fighter, of the students. They're all much better than Arthur had expected.

And some of them are even better than Arthur, which is understandable, since he works a desk job and eats a little more cheese than he should, which slows him down a bit.

Even if he isn't fast, though, he is plenty talented. He'd not done too shabby in Defense NEWTs. And he is relying on every wild instinct and stray memory from that class.

He jogs the hallways and aims his spells at the most unfair duels. He whips his head around at every flash of orange, terrified to see one of his children.

Better not to see. Better not to look. Better to keep fighting.

There's a girl, ahead of him, who's breathing erratically. Her throat and chest are mangled through her robes. The wound is familiar, but he can't place it. Arthur looks around the hallway, then takes a few minutes just to push her out of the way.

There's a boy and girl- the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw from earlier, in the courtyard- who are duelling back to back, turning circles around each other as if they've planned it. There's a boy running across the hall with his hand over his eye. There's a group of children outside one of the windows.

Arthur is struck suddenly by how young they all are. Eighteen at the oldest. And most of them younger. There's some kids here who must have snuck back to the castle- they aren't seventeen by any stretch of the imagination.

Arthur thinks of Ginny and how desperately she'd wanted to fight and suddenly he's choking on his tears. Nearby he can hear shrieks of laughter and screams, but he takes a moment- just a moment to smudge the tears and the ash out of his eyes.

Some of the screams have died- Arthur hates to think why.

* * *

The fight is halted for now, and Arthur follows the sweet-faced Hufflepuff girl down a hallway to a whole group of wounded kids.

It's impressive, how any of them are still standing. Even the ones who aren't injured are obviously exhausted. It's brave, of course, brave and incredible and strong, but it's heartbreaking too. Arthur wonders how many of these students have been hurt worse than this just in school.

He hasn't ever been much of a fighter- he is Gryffindor, of course, but in a different way. This ragtag group of students- they're brave in a way he respects, in a way he envies, in a way he pities.

"I've got," he says, then falters. "I've got all four limbs in decent shape if anyone needs help."

He makes it to the Great Hall holding up two drowsy, injured kids. A girl whose arm is crushed and whose face is white, and a boy with an ugly wound on his face and another on his stomach.

The boy can't be more than sixteen. Arthur tries to remember his boys this young. Percy had been pedantic, Charlie withdrawn. Ron had been sixteen just last year.

Ginny is sixteen, but it's a different sixteen than any of his sons. Ginny is sixteen the same way this wounded boy is. Ginny is sixteen in a warzone.

Arthur helps them both lie down near some others- they're groaning so Arthur feels safe assuming this is the wounded.

Not for the first time Arthur thinks about how terrible it is that these children are involved in the whole thing. A wave of emotion chokes him. His children- his grown-up children- even they are too young for this, some of them.

Somewhere during the fight he'd forgotten his fear for his family, but it all comes rushing back. He looks around the Great Hall, desperate for the first time to spot red hair.

And there- there, clustered together, too many redheads to be coincidence.

Exhausted, Arthur sets off towards his family, staggering just a bit. Just one last moment, during the cease-fire, to all be together again. One bleak, hopeful moment before it all goes back to hell.


End file.
